


The Truth and Lies of Bobby Singer

by Dgray3994



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, F/M, Mythology - Freeform, Parental Bobby Singer, Protective Bobby Singer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 15:39:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16307951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dgray3994/pseuds/Dgray3994
Summary: It's crazy that it's been so long since I put up Sins, but guess what, looks like Bobby and Mary are going to be canon, so it's time to bring about another chapter of the saga with the beginning of a sequel. So now we have this chapter. Enjoy.





	The Truth and Lies of Bobby Singer

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, complains, and kudos are welcome. I'm a big girl, I can handle it. All edits (or errors) are my own.

The rain was cold, which didn’t do much for the shiver under his skin, or the fact that he was already drenched from the damn sprinkler system in the warehouse he had just managed to escape from with his head intact, but as he stepped into the diner, he was glad it had washed away the evidence of the fight.

The bell above the door chimed. The waitress behind the counter looked up from her crosswords and gestured for him to have a seat, like that would be hard to do in the nearly empty restaurant. Hell, he could almost hear the eerie music that accompanied the old black and white horror movies he had gotten into since coming to this “new world,” not that he complained. The bunker was full of rooms, of  _ stuff _ , so finding the old projector and some of the classics was pretty great, actually.

Slipping off the canvas jacket, the one item that you could nearly wring water out of and create a good size puddle, Bobby Singer gently sat his tired body down in the booth and just let out a long, exhausted breath. He wasn’t as young as he used to be and with all the things he had seen, he was ready for a vacation somewhere warm that didn’t have demons, and he wasn’t talking about Hell.

Maybe some beach somewhere, with pretty girls in bikinis… or just Mary. Yeah, Mary Campbell… Wait, Winchester here. She was married to that John kid, the one who died long before… Bobby didn’t want to think of Dean, or Sam, at that moment. He didn’t want to know that one of Mary’s boys was being ridden around by an archangel, and he sure as hell didn’t want to think about the fact that her youngest was supposed to be Lucifer’s true vessel either.

But Lucifer was dead, though how Nick was alive was beyond him.

The waitress interrupted his thoughts, setting down a piping hot cup of coffee and a small cup of cream, not that Bobby needed it, but it was the thought.

“Thank you,” he whispered and tried his best to give the woman a grin, but even his face was tired.

His thoughts traveled back to Nick as he brought the cup to his lips, took a sip and decided that maybe that creamer was needed after all. Every person he had ever encountered had died, or became a vegetable after an angel used him or her as meat suit, there was just too much power in the higher-ups to keep the brain from going to mush. BUT, there Nick was, recuperating in the basement of the bunker, sitting pretty as Sam kept an eye on his wound.

An angel blade that killed the angel but not the host. News to him, he had only heard about them blasting out afterwards, leaving the host with no eyes and, well, no heartbeat, but that was on his side of the line. Maybe it was different here.

He let his mind wander, tried not to think of anything at all, and he was so lost in thought that he never noticed the person who slipped into the booth, placed her hands on the table and waited patiently.

It was the clearing of a throat, the very feminine sound that brought Bobby quickly back to reality and he looked at the familiar face of a young woman from the bunker. She had come in with Jack’s group, or maybe it was Dean’s when they first arrived, before sending the busload through the rift, either way, he wasn’t positive of her name.

“What are you doing here, Lass?” He questioned and watched as she leaned back on the bench, put her arm across the back and crossed her legs under the table, kicking his shin as she did so. The smile on her face told him that there was something very wrong with this picture. “You’re not human, are you?”

“No,” she smirked, “in fact, just like you, I’m not from around these parts either.” Bobby nodded, going for his gun, but she just raised her hand. “Not here to hurt you either.”

“So, what do you want?” He was curious now but that didn’t stop the grip from tightening on the gun either. 

“Me?” She shook her head, nodded to the waitress who casually set another cup of coffee down and refilled Bobby’s. “Funny you should ask, I mean, I never really wanted much of anything from life. I was completely sated sitting up there, watching the humans try to fight for survival. You know what the best part was,” she sat forward just a bit and picked up the spoon in front of him, “the fact that you were winning even before the little Nephilim of this world popped in and started saving your ass.”

“We were winning?” Bobby scoffed and watched her add seven sugars to her coffee before dumping half the container of creamer.

“Do you really not believe that you were capable of ending the apocalypse on your own, without his help? Without  _ their _ help? Bobby, you disappoint me.” She sat back, bringing the cup to her lips. “Of course, if you had Dean there,  _ your  _ Dean, none of it would have started to begin with.”

“What do you mean  _ my _ Dean?” Bobby was getting frustrated, his finger itched to pull that trigger and he still wasn’t sure if she was an angel or a demon. One way to find out. “Cristo.”

“OH MY GOD!” She snapped, full of fear and blinked at him before raising a finger and tasting her coffee. With an exaggerated  _ ah _ , she put the mug down. “Not a demon, weren’t you listening, I said up, sitting  _ up _ there. I’m an angel, you ass.”

“Okay, so, you’re an angel, from my world. Who’s suit did you ride to get over here?”

“Some little, whiny… thing. I think her name was Kendall, didn’t stick around much after the jump.” She shrugged. Such a smug thing for something so tiny. “She was fine when I left her and she actually wanted it. I left her with all her faculties and as far as I know somewhere in Wisconsin.”

“You left her in Wisconsin?” Bobby snapped and drew the attention of the waitress, who looked up with a frown and shook her head. Bobby gave a slight grin and then turned back to the angel. “So, who am I talking to now, and what suit did you con into wearing this time?”

“Oh, this one was uninhabited when I found it. Drug overdose or something,” she waved it off as if it were nothing, “that’s not the point, Robert.”

“Name.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I want a name or I’m walking out the door.”

“Oh, threats, I like it.” She sat forward at the table and laced her fingers together, casually taking him in. “My name here, in this world, is Sariel, but you can call me Sara. Angel names are so formal.”

“Okay, Sara, how about we get to the point of this little visit.” Bobby wanted to call Sam, wanted to tell him that he had found a rogue angel but this was a new world, and as much as he should just do away with her, they kinda needed all the help they could get.

“Fine, I thought I might catch you up on a little mythology in this world, about Mary Winchester, and our Lord, Michael, oh… and you.” Bobby sat back as she said it and smiled. “Are you ready for a story?”

“Do I really have a choice?” He took a deep breath, moved his hand from the gun and wrapped both around his mug. The angel hadn’t made any wrong moves and so far all she seemed to want to do was talk, so, why not give the little imp a listen. 

“You could walk out that door right now, or you could sit there and let me tell you a story. Trust me, you might like this one.” Sara cleared her throat, got comfortable and looked up towards the lights as if she were thinking of where to start. “A long, long time ago, probably 1978, here in this world, Bobby Singer met up with one Mary Winchester and chaos ensued.”

“Chaos?”

“Fornication? The horizontal mambo? The Wam-bam-thank you-ma…”

“Okay, stop, I get your point.”

“That’s what she said.” Sara snorted and watched as Bobby rolled his eyes.

“So, in this universe they were together, so what?” Anger seemed to fill his voice as he tried to not think of exactly what he was, which was the two of them together.

“So what was the rumor that of that coupling Dean Winchester was conceived.” Sara sat forward staring at him as Bobby suddenly sat back, all the fight going out of him and he shook his head. 

“Dean’s mine?” That was what he took from it, the strange knowledge that the boy could really be his, or biologically linked to him in some way.

“Well yes… and no,” she shook her head, as if she herself were confused, “like I said, it’s rumor, because there was no way if he was that Michael would be calling the shots on that road trip, now would he… unless…”

“Unless what?” She grinned as Bobby snapped again.

“Like I said, Bobby, rumors.” 

“What is the point to all of this?” 

Sara sighed and stretch both her arms out. “It’s all about manipulation, Bobby. Heaven went through a lot of things to make sure that Dean,  _ this _ Dean was truly a Winchester, but that didn’t really happen until he was yanked out of Hell by Castiel. Man, I miss that angel, he was like the big brother I never wanted, so damn full of himself.” She started to mumble to herself and Bobby began to wonder if she were sane at all or if the fall had knocked a few screws loose.

“What does this have to do with me?”

“Hmm?” She looked up at him quickly, as if drawn back into the conversation. “What? Oh, yeah, so manipulations, Hell, blah, blah, blah. It’s all fun and games on this plane, isn’t it? The way they just play with things to mold them to what they need. Freaking angels!” She sighed, exasperated, “but, there’s a different side to this coin, kind of like a different universe. An alternate one, where in 1978 you and Mary did hook up, where you did hunt together and Dean was conceived.”

“That’s not possible.” Bobby shook his head, trying to deny any of it, but it just struck a cord.

“Oh, come on, Bobby. Think back. Norman, Oklahoma, you were chasing some vengeful spirit, met up, hunted together, did the dead, you know, la-tee-da.” She rolled her eyes, as if it was the most annoying story she had ever had to listen to. “Look, they teach this stuff in Little Angel Bible School, Bobby, it’s not that hard to prove and I’m not making this up, because thinking of the two of you together is just gross.”

Bobby stopped, thought back and remembered it. The spirit was locked in the root cellar, tucked in the basement corner, covered by a crappy stack job with the bricks, but they had taken it down together and headed back to the motel. It was just one time, just a hunter’s way of getting things out of their system instead of hopping to the bar, but slowly, Bobby looked up at Sara.

“Ah, and there it is.” The angel stated and grabbed for some more sugar as the waitress refilled her cup for the third… fourth time? Bobby let out a breath, as if he had been jabbed right in the lungs and she smiled at him, shaking her head. “See, not lying, that would be a sin, but there’s a reason for this little tale, Bobo, that if there’s a Dean here from your little tryst between the sheets, then there must be a Dean…”

“There.” Bobby finished, but he wasn’t seeing the angel, he was trying to remember back to all the times that Mary had approached him after that date, while they hunted, before she died a decade ago and he sucked in a deep breath. There was always a boy with her. Bobby had watched him grow, but he never questioned who Sam Campbell was.

“Ah, see,  _ that _ is your Dean.” Sara laughed. “Maybe not the same name but check out his eyes, that hair and the last time you saw him. That was what? Last year? Before this Dean arrived, before he and Sam and Castiel moved through the rift.” 

“Sam,” Bobby whispered. He remembered the conversations with the boy, about who his father was, where his father was because Bobby assumed he was just a kid that Mary had picked up along the way. He hadn’t seen her in a decade, not after that chance encounter, so Sam… Dean in this world… was already ten when they met. Bobby swallowed hard and looked up at Sara, who only grinned and sipped at the coffee. “He’s mine.”

“Rumors, Bobby,” she took a deep breath and shuffled out of the booth, but Bobby only sat there and stared. “Hey, old Man,” his eyes whipped up to look at her, “even rumors have some ounce of truth, and if you want to find it out, you just got to answer the question.”

“What question?” 

Sara winked at him, stepped up to the counter and dropped a twenty in front of the waitress, before slowly strolling out into the rain.

Bobby only sat there for a second more before he was up and moving, quickly making his way out into the night and he stopped on the sidewalk, looking both ways before he hooked a right and headed for the alley.

“Sara!” His voice sounded muffled, drowned out by the sound of the drops hitting the pavement. “SARA!”

“Hello, Robert.” That deep voice, rough around the edges, but deadpan had him holding stalk-still, and Bobby slowly turned to look at the man who was stepping out of the shadows.

Michael, in Dean’s body, seemed to float towards him with each step and Bobby moved to draw his gun but Michael held up a hand.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” Michael was completely serious, but Bobby was so used to the way life was in the old world that he didn’t want to chance it. “I know you just had a little conversation with Sariel, what kind of little lies did she spin for you. She’s good at that.”

“She told me a little Sunday School story,” Bobby fessed up, “something that I reckon you might know a thing or two about.”

“No doubt it was a good one.” Bobby was in awe of the difference in the facial expressions. It was like he wasn’t even looking at Dean, but a completely different man, barely recognizable by the tone of the voice. “So, let me ask you one question, Robert,” Michael stepped closer, the sweep of his coat moved with the shift of his body as Bobby cocked the gun, “What do you want?” 

“The truth,” Bobby replied without hesitation and he watched the small smile run along Michael’s lips, as if he had never heard anyone be so damn honest before. Michael nodded and held out a hand towards him, not to shake it, but to take it and Bobby licked his lips.

“The only way you’re going to know is if you put some faith in it.” Michael raised a brow. 

With a deep breath, Bobby reached out and slipped his hands in Michael’s just as the world went dark.


End file.
